And I can already feel the summer pulling away,
soft and slowly like a lover receding into the night,
into a darkness that can no longer be touched,
where the heat in our blood has given way
to something like a hidden river of ichor.

And maybe I'm still waiting for you there,
to be enfolded and linked forever.

And in that first touch it was too early to tell
if it was meant to be a confession
or some kind of hidden promise to sense
in the way hands clashed tightly,
in the way you exhaled against my skin
because our bodies had already made vows
but to whisper it out loud is almost too much.

Before that we were walking to your house past midnight,
slowly as if every step could make something in us
drift apart like leaves falling and fluttering,
perfuming the air with sweetness before winter
but if left in the onset of that dark,
I would still wait for you there.

And the quiet night suddenly broke into motion
as we got to your room and I remember
how finding my way there without one light on
seemed like the perfect metaphor for traveling along you
without a map yet navigating sinuous valleys through
blind instinct as this is and always would be home.

There were already faint signs of it 
as your clothes fell and the October moonglow
became all you ever needed to wear 

And when taken by such raw impulse,
you would soon flare and explode
like a star that has long since released
its final burst of celestial light.

And by then we were already unfolding one another
like paper notes that went left unread for years,
stripped away now only to cling again
so we can forget the coming cold drifting
closer like a lover refusing to flee but still
uncertain of how tying together in the dark 
can go on to really mean anything beyond us
even though this is when you knew me best.

I would still wait for you there.

And I can already feel autumn nearing 
before we touch in this small room
and the October moonglow was all 
you would need to wear with me forever.

And it was some kind of confession when you
pulled me deep into you where everything is handed over
even though we may be scared to remain in our skins,
you wanted to be branded and claimed within yours
as the turbulence in us stilled for a different storm,
to hold on to a singular inevitable flash 
that's so much more than just a mutual oblivion.

And by then you had a part of me
to be possessed by no one else,
and though there were signs on our bodies,
intertwined on your narrow bed,
naked skin soft and hot like melting was,
soon enough forgetting which uncertain
and vulnerable shape belongs to who...

Sometimes the quiet wind rose outside after,
we could breathe in autumn's sudden ripe sweetness
and I knew you could feel it then, too,
the uncanny brilliance in your eyes
already making vows we never say out loud.

And you were still aglow
with such raw impulse,
with the swift intimacy
of two forever enfolded.

And by then we don't need to say this,
it's akin to tremors in the deep earth
or thunder clapping in distant skies,
never seen but always felt around us.

I would still wait for you there.